


a million ways to say i love you

by bugselfs



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: 100 Ways to Say I Love You Writing Challenge, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, well there's a plot but not for a while
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 7,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25199461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bugselfs/pseuds/bugselfs
Summary: and here are just a few.
Relationships: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau/Emily Prentiss
Comments: 11
Kudos: 72





	1. pull over. let me drive for a while.

**Author's Note:**

> repost / re-edit bc i started re watching criminal minds!!! moreid wont be official for a while so if u wanted immediate gratification this is not the one for u buuuuut drop a kudos anyways xoxo

Spencer Reid was not oblivious to the foggy San Francisco nights, nor were they unfamiliar to him; the Nevada native had spent many summers drawing a path from his desert home of Las Vegas to the Bay Area, if only to see the sunset along the Golden Gate Bridge. When his mother’s illness became worse, so much so that she no longer remembered those July drives, he would show her old photographs of all the times they spent at Fisherman’s Wharf, before the sun rose, waiting for the day to start.

But in this moment, it was almost 1:30 in the morning, on a sweet mid-July day, and Spencer had been driving for so long his feet moved on their own regard, and the fog had begun to thicken and blur his already clouded vision. The pride in his belly was too stubborn to wake Derek up, though, so he blinked furiously and turned the volume up; the radio playing was Derek's playlist, mostly things Spencer had never listened to before. If he had, he would’ve remembered them. The playlist had seemingly cycled through completely, and the one playing was one Spencer had heard once before. He hummed along, tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, mirroring a heartbeat’s thrum. As the verses developed, and the artist approached the chorus, Spencer couldn’t help but sing along.

Spencer supposed it was his singing which disturbed Derek's nap, though Derek would later claim it was truly due to his ‘awful driving’. Spencer frowned in his friend’s direction anyway.

“Did I wake you?” he asked. Derek shook his head, but he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Spencer laughed in response, “You’re tired. Go back to sleep, Morgan.”

Derek rolled his eyes and sat up straight. “Kid, you’re the one who’s tired.  _ Pull over. Let me drive for a while.” _

Spencer thought for a moment. Only minutes later did he take an exit, off to a gas station in the middle of Northern California. Turning off the car, Spencer yawned, and Derek pretended he didn’t notice. Quickly, Spencer filled up the tank while Derek bought a coffee from the twenty-four hour McDonald’s that stood conveniently close. When Derek returned with a steaming cup of black coffee for him, and a mocha frappuccino for Spencer, he noticed his friend in the passenger seat and smiled.

As they pulled back onto the freeway, Spencer turned to look at Derek. “Have I told you about the time my mom and dad took me to San Francisco?” Derek told him no, he had not, and so Spencer grinned in return.

Another hour passed by, this time with sweet and gentle conversation. Derek's deep voice and the quiet rumble of the engine below them served as a lullaby, drawing Spencer underneath a warm blanket of sleep. He closed his eyes.

  
  
  



	2. it reminded me of you.

They were at a bookstore. Derek wasn't looking at any books at all, to be frank; he was propositioned into driving Penelope and Spencer around until the night grew wilder. While Derek was ordering a coffee from the Starbucks tucked away on the far side of the Barnes & Noble, Spencer had grabbed Penelope's wrist and dragged her into the clustered hallways. Derek's eyes followed her blonde hair and his looming figure until the high stacks of books hid them completely.

Derek didn't see this, he was too busy looking for a vinyl for the new record player he bought, but Spencer and Penelope were in the crowded, bustling history section. Spencer's fingers traced the linings of every book on the shelf.

“Is this alphabetical by author or by title?” Penelope asked Spencer.

“Most bookstores organize by genre, author and title. In fact, it’s actually pretty rare for a bookstore to organize based on title, because it would be so difficult to find books by the same author. This bookstore follows the same trend, except they didn’t alphabetize their genres, which is considerably unique.” He lifted his hand to run his fingers over the shelf beside him. “History and science fiction are right next to each other,” he mused.

“So…” Penelope trailed off. “Author.” Spencer nodded.

While her hands danced to the V section, Spencer looked aimlessly in every book, skimming the summary to decide how interesting it would be. He avoided the English books, of course, but it was difficult to find any foreign language books here that he hadn’t yet read. He almost gave up hope of a new read for the day, until he heard a thump coming from where Penelope stood. She looked over at him, guilty, and he laughed. Without hesitation, he walked over to see what she’d found.

Derek was still in the electronics section, though he had migrated over to the movie area. He walked along the shelves, searching for a movie he could convince both Penelope and Spencer to watch. Penelope was much less picky about the movies she’d watch, but she hated any historical movie where people died - even if there were a happy ending - because it’s “too real” to her. Spencer, ever the problem child, favored those exact types of movies (when science fiction and documentaries were not an option).

It’s only a beat later when Spencer popped up behind Derek, startling him with a bony hand on his back. Spencer and Penelope laughed, and Derek blushed but pretended it wasn’t happening. When he turned around to look at them, Spencer had every Vonnegut book in different languages. The top book on his stack was a Russian translation of _Mother Night_. When Derek quirked a brow, Spencer shrugged, avoiding eye contact and blushing a barely-noticeable pink across his cheeks.

_“It reminded me of you,”_ he said, and Derek felt a rush of blood in his chest. Penelope only smirked.


	3. no, no, it's my treat.

Cases, cases, and cases; Spencer had seen so many cases in this month, he almost began to blur the victims together. The first case was a young college student; she was the third woman who was raped and slaughtered in the Arizona desert over the past two months. There were four other cases Spencer worked in just this August.

But this one felt different.

He certainly couldn’t explain how. Maybe it was because the missing girl was only 16, taken from a raving house party; a testament to what growing up does to you. Maybe he felt this way because when Garcia looked into the young girl’s computer, the team discovered a bubbling Dilaudid addiction. Maybe because her mother was sickly, and her father was absent, and when Spencer looked at her, he really only saw himself.

He gets into the habit of caring too much, that’s undeniable, but in this case, a young girl, only 16, with a sick family and a sick body, was taken from a home that wasn’t even hers. Spencer found himself lost on a lead, missing full chunks of the profile...and the only reason the team was even called in? This girl - her name was Elizabeth, it was _Elizabeth_ , Spencer repeated like a prayer - was _such_ a low risk victim. No one except her dealer, not even her closest friends, knew about her addiction; she had stellar grades, an honor student, accepted into a handful of ivy league college which she had not yet decided on for the spring; she worked in the community, volunteering at a multitude of shelters for underprivileged youth, animals, veterans, and more; she was nice; her teachers loved her; her mother needed her; she was a _good_ _kid_.

The saddest part is, it wasn’t her mother who reported her missing. A whole twenty-four hours after she was last seen, her friends didn’t see her at school, so they were worried; apparently, another skill of hers was perfect attendance since the sixth grade.

This child, young and undiscovered, was kidnapped by what appeared to be a sexual sadist, a hebephile; but also could’ve been a protector abductor; but might have been neither; but could have been both; but -

Cases, cases, and cases; Spencer has never once failed to solve a case.

But this one felt different.

Hotch was sitting to review case files, and Emily was resting her head in the crook of her arm, and JJ was speaking quietly on the phone with a contact for the case, and Rossi was staring at the whiteboards and Spencer was watching it all with cloudy eyes. It was then that Derek walked up behind Spencer, placed a wide and heavy hand on his shoulder, startling him. Spencer whipped his head around to look.

“Come on, kid, you need a break,” Derek said. “I can see how glazed over your eyes are, it doesn’t even look like you’re awake.”

“I am awake,” Spencer argued. “I’m just, um-” he paused, like he forgot where he was going. “I’m just zoning out.”

JJ chuckled from her seat, and Emily lifted her head to roll her eyes at Spencer. “Spence,” JJ said, “I think Morgan’s right.” 

Spencer sighed and stood, and Derek reached out a hand to steady him. “I've got an idea, just follow me,  _ Doctor _ ,” Derek said. Emily snorted, and Spencer made a face at her before trailing close behind Derek. 

When they made it to the car, Spencer asked, “Where are we going, Morgan?” Derek only grinned in response.

They drove for what felt like hours - but was probably more like twenty minutes - before arriving at something called a _ Star Voyager. _ Spencer laughed as soon as he saw the neon lights flashing above the doorway. “I can’t believe you found a spot like this. How?” He turned to Derek and smiled bright; Derek's eyes were even brighter.

After a very late 11:30 PM dinner and even a drink or two, Spencer pulled out his wallet to pay for all the junk he ate. Derek rolled his eyes and pushed away Spencer's hand, telling him, “ _ No, no, it’s my treat _ .”

Spencer fought back a grin.

They returned to the station after picking up a single black coffee from the McDonald's drive through. Spencer's eyes felt fresher, more open; when he pulled out the victim’s -  _ Elizabeth, her name is Elizabeth _ \- file, he wasn’t afraid anymore. Papers fluttered around him, but the mess made in his mind’s storm was worth it, as he led the team a step, and another step, and another closer to the whereabouts of a sixteen year old girl with her whole life ahead of her.

They found her in a dusty basement, crawling with spiders - Spencer later discovered she was an arachnophobe. She wasn’t tied up, but the doors were bolted shut, and she was pushed into withdrawal to the point of obedience. The janitor took her. He said he wanted to save her from her parents, from her addiction, from the cruel world that laid ahead; Spencer wouldn’t lie and say he was unhappy the janitor found himself in jail.

And if Spencer sometimes called Elizabeth, sometimes asked her about school and Dilaudid and if she was okay...well, what’s the harm in that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ceo of self insert


	4. come here, let me fix it.

Derek doesn’t deal with his anxiety like a “normal” person, apparently; or, at least, a healthy person.

According to his therapist, he pushes down his fears and anxieties and hides them beneath his bubbly, jokester-type personality or behind a toothy smile. He detaches from relationships and attaches to inanimate objects, especially ones that hold some unrealistic personal value. He has horrible coping mechanisms and habits, like flicking off lights and counting the flowers on the wallpaper of his bathroom. He never really cries, doesn’t discuss, and he definitely doesn’t vent; there are few people he trusts that much, and they are the same people he could never risk breaking away from. What he would tell them would certainly do that.

So on this particular night, he wasn’t texting Hotch or calling Garcia as the paranoia filled his blood; instead, he was opening and closing a star shaped locket from deep inside his childhood. As he opened and closed, over and over, opened and closed, he repeated a mantra under his breath:  _ “All love begins and ends here” _ . Open and close.  _ “All love begins and ends here,”  _ repeat. He clicked the locket out and in so many times that, all at once, one side popped off, and he was left with half of a star hanging on a chain.

The anxiety that had been seeping into his veins began to flood his circulatory system; he felt his own fear overwhelm him, taking the form of a racing heartbeat and a shivering body and a tight stomach and a pair of shaking hands. What else was he to do except cry?

Fully and completely, sobs wracked his entire body. It was as if the sky had fallen, crumbled on top of him in a flurry of despair; all that was left of his father had broken in half, cracked straight down the middle and fragmented, crashing onto his head with the weight of a ceiling fan. With every struggling breath he took, air so cold it was fire swam down his throat and into his burning lungs. If it didn’t hurt so much to breathe, he would’ve screamed.

He didn’t even know it was happening until it was too late, but he blindly rang the third person on his speed dial. When Spencer answered, Derek said nothing; he had already tossed his phone onto the couch and began hyperventilating halfway across the room. An unprompted and silent phone call  _ obviously _ worried Spencer to no end, so it was only eleven minutes later that Derek heard a loud knocking on his front door.

Still panting, with tears welling up in his eyes, he stumbled towards the door and trembled as he pulled on the doorknob. The ringing in his ears melted with whatever Spencer was saying, and Derek couldn't hear a word; his vision was blurry, but he could almost make out Spencer’s lips calling  _ “Morgan”  _ over and over again. He took a breath through his nostrils, trying to steady his pulse. Spencer reached out his arms - Derek never noticed the cultivation of freckles on his hands and wrists until now - and broke through Derek's deafening heartbeat with a, “Derek!”

Derek, though no longer blinded or deafened, still had no control over his breathing. Spencer said loudly, “I’m going to breathe with you. Can you do that? Can you breathe with me?”

Derek nodded. “How about we start with four?” Spencer said to him. “Inhale for four seconds, hold for one second, exhale for four seconds. Let’s do that.” Derek shook as he nodded once more, and Spencer gripped Derek's wide shoulders with a tight hold. It took only a moment for Derek's breaths to begin steadying.

Spencer smiled, but Derek noticed that his eyes were sad. Derek never realized that Spencer’s eyes were so hazel. “Let’s try for seven now, okay? Inhale for seven seconds,” he said, and they both took a deep breath. “Exhale for seven seconds.” After a few more rounds of that, Derek’s hands stopped shaking, his chest had stopped heaving, and his breath had stopped stuttering.

“Reid,” Derek huffed out.

“I know,” Spencer whispered, and pulled Derek in. “Can you tell me what’s wrong? Please?”

Derek said, “I w-was, I tried to, I-” he paused, the shortness of breath washing over him once more as a wave of anxiety hit him again.

Spencer shushed him, “It’s okay! It’s okay. Can you show me?” Derek led him to the broken locket, which was strewn haphazardly on the coffee table. He held it with trembling fingers and brandished it to Spencer.

“Okay, it’s okay.” Spencer promised. “ _ Come here, let me fix it _ .”

They sat, side by side, as Spencer found a way to mound the two pieces back together. By the time he finished, Derek had begun to rest his head on Spencer's bony shoulder. When Derek had finally caught his breath, he started to tell Spencer about the day his father gave his mother this locket; how it was only a week or two before his father, an officer of the law, was killed; how it hurt so badly that Derek pushed away every emotion he felt, even the ones pitting in his gut as Carl Buford abused him, again and again; how he fell apart; how he was broken; how he was so screwed up in the head even his therapist would find herself bewildered by his emotionally unavailable antics; how he tried so hard to be the good guy because, for his whole life, his entire childhood, he was surrounded by bad guys; how, when he was anxious, he would repeat some stupid line by Robert Browning because he saw it in his father’s old office once.

And Spencer listened to it all, without any judgement. When Derek finished, Spencer said,  _ “Motherhood: all love begins and ends here.  _ I think it’s a commentary on how strongly mothers and maternal figures are valued in this society. I wonder if your father had that in his office due to the way he felt about your mother, perhaps even as a thank you.” Spencer trailed off into another tangent about things that Derek didn’t really understand. They talked all night.


	5. i'll walk you home.

While Spencer knew almost everything, the one thing he really knew, all because of personal experience, was how gross the subway is. It’s chronically disgusting, cluttered with people, all of their arms flailing or outstretched and their legs spread too far apart. If Spencer were to stand in a cart, he would find himself shoulder to shoulder with four strangers, who all somehow smelled like oils and molds.

The Thursday evening rush drove Spencer insane, but Hotch let everyone off early after a rough couple of days, and what else was Spencer supposed to do except go? He  _ was _ grateful for an early night, an earlier beginning to his re-binging of Doctor Who, and an earlier ending. He was grateful, and  _ still _ , he was conflicted.

There had been someone tailing Spencer that week, for reasons only just discovered on Thursday. The entire BAU had worked hard to keep Spencer safe, and yet he still felt a ghost of a breath on his arms and back wherever he walked. The safest way home was the train; he would be surrounded by witnesses - whether or not those witnesses were reliable - but all the people he didn’t know would brush their skin against his. He could take an Uber or taxi home, but how was that any safer if a stranger picked him up and took him straight to his home; knew his address and his neighbors and where he worked and all? And if he walked home, with no one watching his back...well, he’d be stupid.

The sun was barely setting. He thought, for a moment, if he walked fast enough, maybe he could be rolling up to his front door just as the street lights turned on. Still unsafe, he figured; people get kidnapped during the day all the time.

He was standing outside the doors of the FBI building, deep in his own dilemma, when Derek stood next to him and interrupted his chain of thought. “Reid,” Derek said loudly. “Are you okay?”

Spencer shook off his nervousness and put on a smiling, friendly face. “Yeah, I’m okay.” Maybe his voice was a little bit higher than normal.

Derek smiled at him, sad or nervous or something other than the  _ brightbrightbright _ Spencer normally saw. “How about this?  _ I’ll walk you home _ .” Spencer took a deep breath through his nose, and exhaled out his mouth. He nodded, and Derek smiled again - maybe a little bit bright this time too.

It was almost three miles. Derek didn’t break a sweat - the humid, early September didn’t affect him at all. Spencer could feel the beads rolling down his forehead, but Derek didn’t make him feel embarrassed at all. Instead, Derek asked him about the week they’d had, opened the door for a real, emotionally available conversation and opened a window for Spencer to escape through. Spencer knew almost everything, with his eidetic memory and amazingly high IQ, but on this humid and scary Thursday, he learned something new.

He learned that safety and security isn’t about how big your gun is or how quickly you can react; it isn’t about how cautious you are while driving or how fast you slam on your brakes; it isn’t about how many bodyguards you have standing next to you and how big their biceps are; it’s about something much deeper and much more immeasurable. it’s about how much the person standing next to you would do for you; if he would lay down his arms to protect you or stand in front of a bullet or walk you home, three whole miles, just because you were a little bit scared of the world.

When they finally made it to Spencer’s front door, he invited Derek in. While Spencer took a shower, Derek ordered take out - how did he know Chinese food was Spencer’s favorite? - and turned on season twelve of the original Doctor Who. Derek stayed the night, on the couch, and Spencer made breakfast in the morning. Derek didn’t know Spencer could cook.

JJ drove them both to work that Friday morning. She didn’t ask any questions; Spencer wondered if she knew that he wouldn’t know how to answer.


	6. have a good day at work.

Spencer was so damn sick.

Spencer prided himself on how rare it was for him to get sick. He’d caught the flu a total of three times, never missed a vaccination or shot, never had chicken pox or measles or pneumonia or any other vaccine-preventing disease. and the only reason he ever had the flu was because the flu seasons had started early those years, but he still got his shot and he was still okay. He barely even caught the common cold; his germaphobia often stopped him from shaking hands or bumping shoulders but it protected him from stuffy noses or aching stomachs, so it was absolutely worth it.

But somehow, he was  _ still _ sick; like, rolling over in pain, tears welling up in his eyes, clenching his stomach, excessive bathroom breaks for  _ all sorts of things  _ kind of sick. It was driving him insane. He tried so hard to miss as little work as possible, but for some reason, he fell ill and it pissed him off to no end.

An hour after their work day started, - or would have, for Spencer, if he hadn’t caught this damn virus, maybe he forgot to wash his hands or didn’t use enough soap or - Derek called. as Spencer picked up, he coughed loudly, and he heard a crackling laugh through the phone.

“You alright there, kid?” Derek said.

Spencer sniffed, maybe a little bit annoyed. “I got sick.” Okay, more than  _ a little bit _ annoyed.

“Damn,” Derek told him, “I was worried about you when you didn’t come in. I guess I could’ve just asked Hotch if you called in.”

Spencer chuckled a little. “Yeah, maybe,” he said, “but it’s okay. I’d only just begun my routinely teenaged glooming.”

Derek laughed at him again, but it didn’t annoy Spencer at all this time. “You never get sick! I almost can’t believe it. but, I guess, when you get sick, you get  _ sick _ .” Spencer nodded, but Derek couldn’t see that. Derek continued. “Get some rest, pretty boy. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Spencer held back a blush at the nickname. “ _ Have a good day at work _ ,” he said, and Derek said goodbye.

That night, Derek, JJ, Emily, and Penelope came by with steaming chicken soup that had a sticky note on the lid. The note was signed by the BAU team, and covered in hearts - drawn by Penelope, of course, and she even dotted the _ i’s _ with them. Spencer welcomed them all in, and let them baby him a little; Derek forced him down with a bundle of blankets and served him the soup, Penelope set up some weird incenses to promote healing, Emily and JJ cleaned up his living room, and the four of them made Spencer’s sick home a little bit nicer than before.


	7. i dreamt about you last night.

It was close to eight in the morning and the team was on the plane to some hole-in-the-ground town in Nevada when Derek plopped down next to Spencer on the bench.

“ _I dreamt about you last night_ ,” Derek whispered.

Spencer furrowed his brows and whipped his head around to look at Derek. “What?” he asked, and Derek laughed.

Derek said, “It was a pretty funny dream. And really weird. I don’t even remember it all, but I remember some key points. Specifically, some interesting things with you and Garcia.”

“I’m not surprised you dreamt about Garcia,” Spencer responded.

“I’m not surprised I dreamt about you, either,” Derek smiled, and Spencer felt a rush of heat in his head and cheeks. He ignored it, and Derek told him all about his dream.


	8. take my seat.

Spencer is no stranger to crowds, and yet, there is nothing he hates more than a crowd.

He can’t stand the smells, the noises or the touches; everyone smells like body odor, and they all breathe too loud and brush up against his body, like personal space was just some work of fiction. It drove Spencer nuts - didn’t anyone understand deodorant?

For the first time in a very long time, Spencer was flying in a public airport. He only ever flew without the comfort of the FBI’s private jet when he was going home to visit his mother. Still, though, he’d usually choose very inconvenient flights so he’d only have to speak to the crew. In this case, his flight was scheduled far too close to the weekend for an empty plane. The Southwest flight he booked was almost full, so very close to full, and Spencer had only the choice to suck it up and suffer.

He makes it through the crowds of security, the TSA agents being a little merciful to his scrawny, anxious figure. He ordered an extra sweet coffee from Starbucks, an iced caramel macchiato with whipped cream, before sitting down in the far corner of his gate. He pulled his knees up to his chest, plugged in his headphones, and whipped out the novel  _ Wuthering Heights _ . Elizabeth told him she was reading it; he thought he’d give it a shot. He read it once in his senior year of high school, and although he could recall it very well, he didn’t remember it with the same ease as he once did. And maybe he wanted to talk to Elizabeth about it, too.

He isn’t pre-board, or early boarding in section A. In fact, he’s in the thirties of B, so he couldn’t even guarantee he’d be sitting alone, or at least in a window seat. When B began to line up, he organized his things and stood in line, just an inch or two away from far too many people. He walked down the ramp to the plane, and smiled at the flight attendants who welcomed him. As he approached the aisle, he looked over a sea of crying babies and tired mothers and stressed fathers and he was quickly exhausted and overwhelmed and undeniably  _ alone _ . 

Every row was full as he walked by, and he was moving through the back half of the plane as all hope creeped out the window. He was so tired, he didn’t care, did he need to care anyway? His anxieties would be unstoppable either way, wouldn’t they? But he heard his name.

“Spencer,” a familiar voice called. Spencer turned his head and noticed Derek smiling at him. He smiled awkwardly, and Derek's eyes softened. “Come here,” Derek waved him over.

Spencer walked up to Derek's almost-empty row - there was a woman in the aisle seat, and Derek in the window seat. Spencer remembered that’s where Derek liked to sit.

“Are you okay?” Derek asked, and Spencer shrugged.

“It’s been a long day,” Spencer said honestly. Derek smiled understandingly at him, and stood up. He politely apologized to the women in the aisle seat.

He grabbed Spencer’s second bag to put it in the overhead compartment, before noticing Spencer’s confused expression - furrowed brow, slight frown, a certain  _ ‘what the hell?’ _ type of glint in his eyes - and he chuckled. “ _ Take my seat, _ ” he nodded to the window. “I’ll sit in the middle.”

Spencer's face softened and he smiled warmly, gently, sweetly. “Thank you,” he reached out and laid a hand on Derek's arm, only for a moment. He sat down and smiled at the woman in the aisle seat, too quickly to notice Derek's cheeks flushing and the hairs on his forearm standing. When Derek sat next to him, they made small talk. Within the first hour of the flight, Spencer's head made its way to Derek's shoulder. 

Spencer never even asked why Derek was flying to Las Vegas. It didn’t matter anyway.


	9. i saved a piece for you.

October 28th is Spencer's birthday, and every year, it’s fine. He celebrated his 30th with the team, and that was probably his best birthday yet, but birthdays really didn’t mean all that much to him.

Spencer promised Emily that he’d celebrate with her every year after the one the team had forgotten. On October 27th, Spencer and Emily went to see some old scary movie marathon at his favorite theater. When they arrived, Penelope and JJ were waiting with popcorn and 3D glasses, and Spencer grinned in that way he always did around them. He was happy, of course, to be with the people he loved, but he was just not a birthday person. The night ended with a few drinks at Emily’s home and board games, and for Spencer, it was perfectly unspectacular. He just hoped they’d be too hungover the next day to remember to sing to him as they promised.

They were not.

The next morning, Spencer got to work 15 minutes early, assuming he would make it there before anyone else and quell their interest in embarrassing him. He had underestimated them, as the second he began swinging the door to the office open, they began singing. Questionably, the only one missing was Morgan. Spencer tried not to take offense to it, and just laughed when Emily stumbled into JJ’s shoulder a little and made her risk dropping the cake. Rossi pressed a kiss to Spencer’s forehead, and Hotch clapped him on the back, and they each took a slice of cake before everything returned to normal.

About five or so minutes later, Penelope called out, “Last call for cake!”

Spencer hesitated, but ultimately said, “Uh, cut me another slice, please? I want to make sure Derek gets one.”

Penelope looked at him knowingly, but didn’t bother to say anything.

When Morgan rolled into work, 10 minutes late with a cup of coffee in each hand, he walked straight up to Spencer and held out the drink. “An apology,” he said. “For running late on your birthday.”

“You didn’t need to apologize,” Spencer said, but took it from Morgan anyway. He took a slow sip of it, hesitant due to the steam swirling from the lid. It was just how he liked it. “Thank you.”

“No problem, pretty boy,” Morgan said, smiling. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” Spencer said, willing away the blush threatening to scatter across his cheeks. “Oh!  _ I saved a piece for you _ .”

Derek blinked. “Oh,” he replied. “Thanks, Reid.” He was visibly taken aback, eyebrows scrunching in the way they did when he was surprised. 

Spencer spun around in his chair so Derek couldn’t see the dopey smile that he couldn’t bite down. “No problem.”

  
  



	10. i'm sorry for your loss.

They don’t talk about death a lot.

That surprises a lot of people, but with their jobs, it’s a topic for conversation that the BAU tries to avoid. However, death is unavoidable in their field. Sometimes, it has to come up.

Spencer was doing his best to comfort a young black boy whose father had just died, but it was hard. He wasn’t exactly the spokesperson for comforting people, nor was he really experienced in losing a father or recovering from a hate crime. As usual, just as Spencer was starting to feel like there was no end in sight, Derek came swooping in to save the day.

“I lost my dad when I was your age,” Derek told the boy, who sniffled and finally looked away from his lap for the first time since the agents had arrived. “It was really hard. I felt like I had to be strong for my mom and my sisters, because I knew they were scared about losing me too. But it’s okay to be sad about it too. It’s okay to cry. You don’t need to be strong all the time.”

“I just-” the boy choked out. “I just miss him.”

“I know,” Derek said gently. “You’re always gonna miss him. But this horrible, painful feeling in your chest? The one that makes you feel like you can’t breathe anymore? It’s gonna go away one day. One day, when you remember him, you won’t cry. You’ll be happy about all the memories you made with him.”

“Okay,” he agreed.

Derek put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You don’t gotta be strong right now, buddy. Just let go.”

In a flash, two skinny little arms were wrapped around Morgan’s shoulders and the sounds of broken sobs came crashing from the little boy’s throat. All Morgan could do was rub his back and whisper, over and over, “I know.”

A little bit later, when Spencer and Derek were on their way back to the police station, the silence was suffocating. Spencer cleared his throat and nervously said, “ _ I’m sorry for your loss _ .”

“It was a long time ago,” Derek replied.

“I know,” he agreed, not looking Morgan’s way. “But that doesn’t make me less sorry.”

After a moment of quiet, Derek said, “Thanks.”


	11. you can have half.

“God, I’m starving,” Derek groaned, throwing his head back in frustration. “I keep trying to focus on this case but I can’t think of anything except how much I want a stupid burger.”

Spencer laughed. He got the feeling, even if he didn’t express it so shamelessly at work. “Here,” he said, holding out half of his deli-style sandwich. “ _ You can have half. _ ”

Derek smiled gently. “Thanks, Spencer,” he said, using Spencer’s  _ name _ , not a nickname, in a special tone which was typically reserved for Garcia when she was sad or worried.

“Yep,” Spencer replied awkwardly, spinning around in his chair to look away from Derek and biting at the inside of his cheek in hopes Derek didn’t see him smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont worry chapter 12 makes this short chapter worth it


	12. take my jacket, it's cold outside.

“How’d we get invited to this anyway?” Penelope whispered not-so-subtly to Emily and Derek.

“No idea,” Emily replied, staring at Rossi and Hotch from across the field. “Hey, how do you think Hotch asked Rossi?”

“They’re, like, besties, I don’t know,” Penelope scoffed.

“No, it was probably super awkward and formal,” Emily argued. “They were probably drinking black coffee in the office with the lights dimmed and Hotch was like,  _ Thanks for meeting me here _ , and Rossi was all,  _ Any time, Aaron. _ ” Emily’s impersonations of the two were by no means accurate, but still a wonderful addition to the conversation.

“Why does it matter?” Derek wondered. “I don’t think they invited us so we could speculate about it. I think they want us to support Jack and the team. It’s their first game.”

“Which is why I made matching shirts,” Penelope explained with a sigh. “If only  _ somebody _ would get over herself and wear it.” She looked pointedly at Emily, who only rolled her eyes with a disinterested grin.

“Hey, have either of you heard from Spencer?” Derek asked aloud, looking at both the women beside him.

“Nope,” Penelope said. “Not since the last time you asked, hot stuff.”   
  


Emily snickered as she poked over Garcia at Morgan’s knee. “You worried, lover boy?”

“Hey,” Morgan scolded. “Watch your back, Prentiss.”

“Ooh, I’m  _ so _ scared,” she snarked.

“Hi everybody,” JJ’s voice excitedly called, prompting the three to turn their heads and cheer. “Sorry we’re late, 187 took his time getting ready.”

Spencer blushed. Derek couldn’t look away. “I’ve never been to a soccer game before, so I was doing some reading about it. Did you know that 88,000 American children ages 5 to 14 were treated in hospital emergency rooms in 2018 for soccer related injuries? And statistically, it’s the most injury-prone professional sport for women with a 9.2% concussion rate, whereas men only experience a 5.5% rate?”

After a brief pause, Emily said to JJ, “I get why you were late.”

Spencer smiled nervously and moved to sit beside Derek. “Hey,” he offered.

Derek grinned back. “Hey.”

“See, Emily,  _ JJ _ is wearing the shirt,” Penelope whined. “Even  _ Reid _ is! This is the first time I’ve seen his arms.”

Spencer scowled, but the women paid him no mind. “You scare Spencer. You don’t scare me, PG.”

“Oh, I don’t scare you?” Garcia gasped. “Try that again, Emily. I’ll take you down.”

Just before they could begin to argue shamelessly, JJ said, “Emily, I think you should just wear the shirt before Garcia can embarrass you more.”

“Fine,” Emily said, barely hesitating. “But only if someone buys me a hot dog after this.”

“I got you, Em,” she replied, patting Emily’s knee tenderly. Garcia and Morgan shared a knowing look.

“Hey, kid,” Morgan said, turning to Reid. “What else did you learn about soccer?”

“Admittedly, not much that actually helps me understand the game,” Spencer answered awkwardly. “Just more injury statistics and some history about the game. It’s actually association football, and we shortened to soccer out of the word association, which really doesn’t make much sense.”

Derek laughed like he always did around Reid. “They’re kicking the ball into the net to try and score points. It’s actually pretty simple once you start catching on.”

“Cool,” Spencer replied, smiling softly. Slowly, perhaps hesitantly, he leaned in and pressed his shoulder against Derek’s. Derek didn’t flinch, nor did he pull away. In not pulling away, a few minutes later, he could feel goosebumps rise along Spencer’s exposed skin, and noticed the slight tremble in his forearm which was parallel to Derek’s.

Derek pulled away and began tugging at the sleeve of his hooded leather jacket. Wordlessly, he slid the fabric off and held it out to Spencer. “What are you doing?” Spencer asked curiously, staring at Derek with furrowed brows. 

“ _ Take my jacket. _ ” When Spencer just kept looking at Derek with empty, confused eyes, Derek sighed. “ _ It’s cold outside. _ ”

“Morgan, that’s really nice, but I-”

“Just take it, pretty boy,” Derek said, smiling. Hesitantly, Spencer reached out his hand and wrapped his fingers around the coat. He pulled it towards himself and slipped his arms in.

It was too big on him. He smiled, though, seemingly not caring about the size or how the girls were all looking over with knowing grins, and tugged his arms around his stomach bashfully. “Thank you, Derek,” he said, blushing.

“Uh, yeah,” Derek stuttered. “Don’t mention it.”

When they approached Hotch and Rossi after the game and neither of them reacted to Spencer’s new look beyond a simple quirked brow, Derek almost fell to the ground in relief. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the longest one ive written and i added some jemily for my platonic soulmate and mushroom farming bestie love u bubs


	13. sorry i'm late.

“Where’s Morgan? He’s usually here by now,” Spencer wondered aloud, prompting Emily and JJ to turn and look over at him.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” JJ answered. “Don’t worry so much.”

Spencer frowned, but spun in his chair and dipped his head to look at his work. “He’s never this late,” he muttered, but to no avail; Emily and JJ had already returned to their conversation.

Almost 10 minutes later, Derek came bursting through the door. “Hey,” he said breathlessly, holding out a cup of coffee for Spencer. “ _Sorry I’m late._ The line was really long.”

“It’s okay,” Spencer said with a smile. “Thanks for coffee.”

“Always,” Derek replied. Spencer didn’t know how to reply to something so earnest, so he nodded and turned away from Derek, changing the topic to the task at hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update! i try to do 3 a day but yanno. life. <3


	14. can i have this dance?

“You know, it’s almost Rossi’s 60th birthday,” Garcia mentioned conversationally to the team one morning, moments after Rossi had walked away.

“He would probably destroy you if you tried to throw him a birthday party, Garcia,” Reid replied without looking away from his book. 

“Okay, I know,” Garcia whined, “ _ but _ what if it’s not  _ really _ a birthday party and just happens to be on his birthday? With all his friends? And maybe a cake?”

“It’s not a good idea, baby girl,” Derek said, patting her arm as he walked past and began to make his way out of the room.

“I’ll help you,” Hotch offered. 

The team’s jaws dropped. “Seriously?” Garcia asked gleefully. 

“Sure,” he replied, voice steady as ever. “Let’s start planning after lunch.”

Derek shook his head, looking over at Reid. He smiled in response, shrugged, and returned to the espresso machine for seconds. 

  
  


A week later, Derek walked into his home to find his backyard decorated like a beautiful banquet hall. He froze in his spot, staring at the empty room, and then Garcia came running around the corner.

“We broke in,” she explained. “Well, we used your spare key. Sorry. But it looks nice, doesn’t it?”

Derek stayed frozen a moment longer before bursting into laughter. “Baby girl, you keep me on my toes.”

“All part of my job description, honeybun.” Penelope shrugged and spun around. “Here, let me show you the setup.”

After receiving a tour of his own home, Derek got himself and Hotch a beer, as well as Garcia her favorite green tea, which he kept in his fridge at all times. “So, when’s Rossi coming?”

“Well, the guests are coming at 7, and he said he’d be here at 7:30,” Hotch replied. He was underdressed in relation to his day-to-day wear, but still bore slacks and a white dress shirt with the top button left undone. Beside him, Penelope was wearing what looked like a Homecoming dress for a high school sophomore in 2010… but she pulled it off.

Derek stole a glance at the clock. It was nearing 6:50, so he set his beer on the table. “Well, I’m going to go change so Rossi’s rich author friends don’t think I’m a lumberjack crashing the party.”

He made his way to his bedroom, where he slipped on a pair of black skinny jeans and a tight-fitting white t-shirt, as well as his best-condition, least-worn leather jacket. When he returned to the kitchen, there was Spencer Reid in the flesh, sipping on a glass of water.

Spencer was wearing a pair of dark-wash jeans and a charcoal gray cardigan-slip over his half-buttoned white shirt, and he looked hot as shit. Derek thought, for a split second, that his stomach actually dropped through his asshole and onto the floor, but after a moment he collected himself and said, “Hey, Reid.”

“Hey, Derek,” Spencer replied with a smile. “Cool place.”

“Thanks,” he said, and behind Spencer, Derek could see Garcia and Hotch rolling their eyes at the tension.

  
  


It was a little while later, after they’d sung happy birthday to a surprisingly fond-looking Rossi, they were all dancing on the concrete floor of Derek’s half-finished backyard. Garcia was hiding the construction work pretty well, though, and everyone seemed to be having fun. Emily and Derek were attempting to tango to a song that was definitely not meant for the tango when JJ said behind them, “Spencer cleans up nicely.”

Derek turned to look at her, still holding onto Emily as she laughed. “Uh, yeah?” he responded nervously.

“Maybe you should dance with him,” JJ told him, blinking innocently.

“You just want Prentiss all to yourself,” he teased. He dropped Emily’s hands, though, and stepped back so JJ could walk up to Emily.

“Guilty as charged,” she said, and extended her palm out for Emily. Emily took it happily, blushing a little, and Derek stifled a laugh and walked away.

He took a sip of his beer and almost -  _ almost _ \- forgot about what JJ said to him. But then, from across the room, he heard Spencer laugh. It was a rare sound, and to Derek, it lit up the whole room. He scanned the dancefloor, looking for where the sound came from. When he found Spencer, Spencer looked up at him, and his big bright smile - presumably a response to a joke his dance partner, Garcia, must have made - dwindled into something more bashful. Something just for Derek.

  
Before he could stop himself, his feet were moving on their own volition, right up to where Spencer and Penelope were dancing. In his peripheral vision, he could see Garcia stepping back, seemingly aware of Derek’s intent before he even stuck his hand out for Spencer to hold.

But he did do that. And then he said, _“_ _ Can I have this dance? ” _

Spencer blushed. “Sure,” he said, and cleared his throat. “I’d love that.”

“Have fun, boys,” Penelope said knowingly, before scampering off to talk to Hotch and Rossi.

“I’m not a very good dancer,” Spencer admitted.

“That’s okay,” Derek responded. “I’m a pretty good teacher.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i have yet to respond to comments but please keep commenting i owe everyone who reads this my life and approx $3


	15. i made your favorite.

“You okay, kid?” Morgan asked, interrupting Spencer’s train of thought.

“Huh?” he mumbled, looking up from his sandwich. He blinked. “Oh. Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Uh huh,” Morgan agreed sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Spencer huffed a little. “I’m just nervous,” he admitted. When Morgan raised his brow in confusion, he continued. “JJ asked me to babysit Henry tonight. It’s just - I’m not the best with kids.”

“What are you  _ talking _ about?” Morgan asked, voice laced with laughter. “We all joke about the Reid effect, I know, but kids love you. They all think you’re a robot.”

  
Spencer couldn’t help but smile, and Morgan’s face morphed into something like pride. “Hah-hah,” he replied monotonously. “I’m serious.”

“I am too,” Derek said. “Hey, what if I come with you? I used to babysit Desiree and Sarah all the time.”

Spencer hummed thoughtfully before nodding. “Okay,” he said. “7:00.”

“You got it.” Derek grinned at Spencer, and then walked off to pour himself a cup of coffee. Spencer didn’t stop smiling for almost the entire afternoon.

  
  


Derek pulled up at JJ’s house around 7:03, only minutes after Spencer arrived. He came in through the front door after knocking, and JJ hugged them both goodbye and kissed Henry firmly on his forehead before she left. 

“What’s up, Henry?” Derek asked the 5 year old, who beamed.

“The sky!” he shouted. Spencer and Derek both laughed, and Derek reached down for a high five.

  
  


At some point in the night, Derek called out for dinnertime.  _ “I made your favorite,”  _ he told Spencer.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Why, Kraft mac n’ cheese, of course,” he explained, prompting Henry to cheer. Spencer grinned and rolled his eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't like this one but here's the tumblr post that it was inspired by, specifically the headcanon about reid + kids
> 
> https://criminal-hotch.tumblr.com/post/621905495379312640/cm-headcanons


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